


Tiffany Aching Fanfiction

by Speedythequidkid



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, The Tiffany Aching Series - Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/M, I hope to update this at some point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 18:38:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3539858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Speedythequidkid/pseuds/Speedythequidkid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tiffany leaves her village to visit Preston in Ankh-Morpork.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tiffany Aching Fanfiction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Terry Pratchett](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Terry+Pratchett).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiffany leaves her village to visit Preston in Ankh-Morpork.

Discworld Fan Fiction

Tiffany kicked off from the ground, hard. She rose into the air like an arrow as her dress cracked against the cold night air. Once she had circled upwards to a stomach-turning height, she pointed her old broom towards the plains. Tiffany looked down at her small village before shooting off into the distance.

 She didn’t like leaving. It meant that another witch from a nearby town had to take over for her for a while, had to make sure the villagers were all right. It made her feel like she was inconveniencing someone somehow. However, Mistress Weatherwax had talked to her about it. There was a new witch, a young girl named Aurora, who could use the experience of dealing with a greater number of people. Tiffany knew that it would be good for the girl, and she allowed herself a small smile. She needed a little time off.

“Ach, crivens!” a small voice behind her shouted. The scream lingered on, getting fainter. Tiffany spun her head around only to catch a glimpse of a tiny red-haired man jumping off of her broom. Shortly after, a white dot blossomed below as the Feegle released his parachute.

            Tiffany chuckled and turned back around. The Nac Mac Feegle had, as usual, followed her. Half of their colony was probably hiding in the bristles behind her.

            “Where are you off to, miss?” This time the voice came from in front of her. Another of the small men was balancing precariously on the front end of her broomstick. She was certain no one had been there a few seconds before, but then, you can never be certain when it comes the Wee Free Men.

            “Ankh-Morpork. I’m going to see Preston for a few days.” Tiffany received a sly grin in response. The Feegles knew that she was romantically involved with the boy. Her cheeks became red, and she fervently hoped that the Feegle did not notice. She stared at him until he became uncomfortable instead, at which point he disappeared somewhere behind her. Over the wind, she heard faint whispers.

            The slow moving light of the Discworld flowed over the cold ground as the sun rose. Ankh-Morpork came into view in the distance. _Ah, finally_ Tiffany thought. _These long rides always begin to chafe in uncomfortable places._ Soon, she was gliding over shoddily made rooftops and nauseating smells. Her nose quickly tuned out the smells—it was amazing how fast the brain omitted the smell of the city’s river.

            She landed in front of a large brown building. It was leaning dangerously to one side, but someone had nailed a few wooden posts to it to prevent it from falling. The posts were succeeding, but not by very much. A sign hung from the entrance which read Lady Sybil Free Hospital. Tiffany stepped off of her broom, and her knee buckled, anxious to be reunited with the ground. She had to keep up appearances, as no one would respect a witch who couldn’t stand, and so tried to make it look intentional. Luckily for her, a small purple flower had sprung up in the dirt. She plucked it from the ground and decided to give it to Preston.

            She walked up to the entrance to the hospital and knocked with as much command as she could muster, holding the broom and flower in one hand. From inside, old wood creaked loudly as someone moved towards the door. It opened, just a crack, and an old woman with a large nose and graying hair peeked through.

            “State your business, please,” her voice rasped. One beady brown eye glared up at Tiffany.

            “Hello, ma’am! I’m here to see Preston, please. Only I don’t know where his new house is. Has he come in to work yet?” Tiffany inwardly sighed. She hadn’t meant to admit to not knowing something.

            “Preston? Young lad, speaks with big words?”

“That would be him, yes.” Tiffany confirmed.

“Hasn’t been seen in three days, miss. Sorry. No one is quite sure where he’s gone. You might have a word with Commander Vimes, he’s been lookin’ into it.”

            Tiffany tried hard to conceal her shock and worry, and, overcompensating for it, failed, producing a look somewhere between constipated and ecstatic. “Oh. Um. Well…thank you, ma’am. I’ll look into it as well, I suppose. You…um…must be anxious to get him back and working. Without him, I’m sure you are a bit shorthanded.”

            “Already replaced him, dear,” said the old woman, who then quickly shut the door. It was possible that, upon speaking, she had noticed Tiffany’s pointy black hat, and that by replacing Preston, she might have angered the person underneath it. It is not wise to anger people in pointy black hats, and she was not keen to stick around and find out what would happen to those who do.

            Tiffany was, however, more worried than angry. It wasn’t like Preston to run off without letting anyone know about it several weeks in advance, and in the city of Ankh-Morpork, disappearances were most definitely _not_ good. Thieves and assassins were abundant here, considering that they were allowed by the city’s Patrician to have guilds. The Patrician had found that crime was much easier to deal with, and happened rather less often, when crime was both legal and heavily regulated.

            Tiffany turned around on one foot, slowly. _Don’t be dead,_ she thought, _Please don’t be dead._ Her Second Thoughts asked her who she was talking to, and her rare Third Thoughts made an appearance to tell her to get a grip on herself. _You are a witch. Act like it, and find him. Don’t let yourself worry. Not yet, at least…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited from the version previously uploaded. I plan to add more at some point, hopefully I will have time soon. I'd also like to pay tribute to Sir Terry Pratchett. He is my favorite author, and he will be sorely missed.

**Author's Note:**

> I plan to update this at some point, hopefully I will have time soon. I'd also like to pay tribute to Sir Terry Pratchett. He is my favorite author, and he will be sorely missed.


End file.
